Alphabet Soup
by I Can Kill You With My Brain
Summary: Series of unconnected drabbles focusing around River. One for every letter of the alphabet. Tragedy/Family/Hurt/Comfort/Humor.
1. A is for Absent

**A is for Absent**

_Absent:____to take or keep (oneself) away: __to absent oneself from a meeting._

River liked to drift. Whenever the voices got to loud and the memories of blue threatened to overwhelm her she escaped, going back in her mind to happier times.

At first it was little things, like not answering a question the first couple of times it was asked, or just sitting there, staring at nothing for several minutes at a time. But slowly, over time, it got worse.

She roamed the boat, blank and unresponding, absent from her own mind.

The crew watched as Simon desperately tried any and all medicines, trying to get his sister back.

Sometimes it worked, and River laughed and played with Kaylee, or teased Jayne. But she always slipped away in either a day, or even hours, and she would go back to her zombie state, eating only at Simon's prompting. She never seemed to sleep anymore.

The whole crew of Serenity missed her riddle-filled speeches. They even missed her screaming psychotic fits.

They all tried to help in their own way. Wash would bring River up to the bridge and sit her on his lap like she was a little girl, letting her pretend to fly the ship or play with his precious dinosaurs.

Inara would let River stay in her shuttle, playing with all of her pretty things. She would brush River's hair for hours, and sometimes River would show up in the middle of the night, her hair brush clutched in her hand. Inara never complained when River woke her up, she would just sit her down and start brushing.

Zoe, Mal, and Jayne got together and took out all of their guns. They let River touch the guns she used to steal all the time to play with. For a second her face would light up, her eyes getting a spark of interest as she reached out for the polishing cloth. But then her eyes would dull and her hand would drop to her side. She would stay there for a few more seconds, staring blankly at the forbidden treasure, before she wandered away, her bare feet padding softly on the metal floor.

Book prayed for her night and day, even going so far as to offer her his precious bible for her to 'fix.'

Of all of them, Kaylee tried the hardest, She would spend hours holding the lifeless girl's hand, just talking. She played endless games of jacks, mostly by herself, with River watching and occasionally moving a jack or bouncing the ball. Kaylee counted these times as a win.

Kaylee always made sure to pick up a treat for River whenever they were planet side, whether it was an apple for her to eat or some paint for her to draw with. River reciprocated by following Kaylee around, barely ever leaving her side. Kaylee was the only one besides Simon who could coax food into her, watching as she mechanically chewed the food, not even making a face at the taste of protein like she used to.

Simon seemed to wither away with his sister, turning pale and thin. He ate more and more infrequently, poring over the cortex and old medical textbooks, trying to find a cure.

One day crashing and banging brought the crew flying to River's room, Mal kicking in the locked door. They found her inside the room, covered with paint. The walls of her room were splattered with paint and ink. Glass crunched underfoot as Simon and Mal raced to River, checking her all over for cuts. She just stared up at them blankly, red paint dripping like blood from her forehead.

After that, Mal and Jayne had to lock Simon into his room with a tray of food so that he would eat and sleep. River wasn't allowed to be by herself any more, and from then on she was always accompanied by either Kaylee, Zoe, or Inara. Book and Wash helped out occasionally too.

Even so, one day River managed to escape Inara. Simon was frantic, tearing apart the ship and calling for his sister. They found her in one of the unused guest rooms, standing among the shards of a broken mirror. Simon counted more than twenty separate slices on her hands and feet.

Mal carried River down to the med bay and locked her in, after having Simon and Jayne remove all of the sharp objects and medicine in the room.

Simon stayed with River, making her eat off of the trays the others brought them. River sat there quietly, sometimes stirring as if to do something before she subsided, her hands limply folded in her lap.

Almost two weeks later Book, carrying the breakfast tray, found Simon unconscious on the floor inside of the unlocked med bay. He dropped the tray, breaking the plates and scattering food, and had almost reached him when a scream echoed throughout the ship.

Turning, he ran towards the sound. He found the crew assembled in the cargo bay. There, lying lifeless on the floor, her hands dripping red paint, was River.

Written in red paint was the message:

_Where the mind goes,_

_the body follows. Keep flying._

The screams had come from Kaylee, who was crying into Jayne's shoulder. Inara clutched Mal, and Zoe held Wash. Book slowly crossed himself, then met Mal's eyes, dark in his white face.

"Who's going to tell Simon?" he asked softly.

"You don't have to," said Simon softly. He stood there, white and shaking, a small trickle of blood making his way down his temple.

Slowly, as if he was dream-walking, he crossed to where River lay and, bending down, closed her eyes.

"She was already gone," he said softly, tears beginning to run down his face. Kaylee pulled away from Jayne and went to stand with him. Simon looked up and met Book's eyes.

"She was already absent."


	2. B is for Birthday

**B is for Birthday**

_Birthday: the day a person was born; the anniversary of a birth._

River added one last dab of red to her painting, then held it away from her, admiring it. It was an almost perfect replica of the large oak tree that had stood outside of her parent's house. She had spent long hours in and under the tree, playing with Simon.

Smiling happily, River swung her feet off of the bed and skipped out of her room, heading towards the kitchen, her painting clutched in her hand.

When she got to the kitchen, River stopped in the doorway, peering curiously inside. Kaylee looked up and smiled at her, motioning her inside.

"Hey River," she said happily, "Do ya know where Simon is?" River tilted her head, trying to find Simon.

"Scary place," she said sweetly, moving past Kaylee towards Inara, who was rearranging a pile of wrapped parcels.

"She means the medbay!" yelled Book from the kitchen, where he was mixing stuff in a bowl. River moved away from Inara and stepped into the kitchen. In one corner, Mal and Zoe seemed to be fighting over some piece of paper. A recipe, River decided.

Jayne was helping Wash measure something in a cup. Book smiled at her and offered her the bowl. Shaking her head, River held up the painting and left the kitchen, moving back to Inara and holding out her painting.

Inara took it with a smile and admired it.

"This is beautiful River," she told her gently. River smiled.

"Present," she explained, already moving away. Inara smiled again and placed it on a shelf so it could dry without Simon seeing it.

River walked back into the kitchen and yanked the cup out of Jayne's large hands, ignoring his cry of annoyance and Wash's attempt to grab it back.

She carefully poured in the correct amount of water and handed it off to Book before leaving the room and going to lie on the table.

When Simon came in several minutes later he was met by an explosion of color, sound, and the sight of his sister lying in the middle of the table with all of the plates carefully placed around her.

"Sit down," shrieked Kaylee, shoving him into the chair at the head of the table. Inara gave him a small smile and took the chair next to him. River looked up at him, eyes wide.

"They buried me," she explained calmly. "If I move, the sand will all fall off." Simon blinked, and River stood up, ignoring both her earlier warning and the two plates that fell to the floor.

Smiling, River dropped gracefully into the seat next to him.

"Happy birthday," she said, giving him a hug. The rest of the crew smiled and applauded.

"We thought we could skip dinner and eat the cake," said Mal, looking like a kid in a candy store. "Because last time, we never got to eat any."

River grimaced at the mention of Simon's last birthday, then perked up and turned to him with a smile that had nothing to do with the small chocolate-covered protein cake Kaylee had brought out from the kitchen.

"I got you a present," she sang, searching his face hopefully. Simon smiled at her, a teasing expression on his face.

"I thought you said birthdays are meaningless," he teased. River stuck her tongue out at him.

"Bees are angry, won't get your honey," she warned him in a sing-song voice. She smirked as Simon worked through her exclamation and then turned to her, eyes wide.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "It's my birthday, you have to give me my present!" River smiled at him.

"Should have thought of that," she taunted, enjoying teasing him. Simon poked her.

"Brat," he muttered. River gave him her sweetest smile then turned to the rest of the table, who were quiet as they waited for the siblings to stop talking.

"Can we eat the cake already?" Jayne asked suddenly, looking annoyed. The rest of the table cheered and Simon smiled as he pulled the cake closer to him.

"We didn't put candles on," Inara explained at his look of confusion. "After what happened last time…" she trailed off with a delicate shudder. Simon nodded and wasted no more time cutting the cake for the rest of the crew.

River watched, mouth twitching, as Simon took the first bite of cake. She knew exactly what was going to happen next.

Just as Simon placed the cake in his mouth, Jayne spoke up.

"I made the cake," he said suddenly, looking proud. Simon's face twisted into a look of horror and he spat the cake out into his napkin.

Jayne frowned, looking hurt, and Book reached across the table to put a soothing hand on Simon's shoulder.

"He didn't really make the cake," he said, obviously trying not to laugh. "We all did. Mal and Zoe picked the recipe, Jayne and Wash put the ingredients together, I mixed, and Kaylee and Inara baked."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief and moved to take another bite.

"I put in poison," volunteered River. Simon wasn't the only one to spit out cake. The crew looked at her in horror.

"I told you not to let moonbrain in the kitchen," mumbled Jayne.

River rolled her eyes and took a bite of cake. "Not really," she said. The rest of the crew made no move to take another bite.

River gave them a smile and ate some more cake. Finally, Simon picked up his fork.

"I hate you," he said around a mouthful of cake. River shrugged. It wasn't her fault that the crew was gullible and her brother was an idiot. She just manipulated what was already there.

Eventually, the rest of the crew gained courage, heartened by the fact that neither River or Simon had dropped dead yet, and ate their portions. The only one who didn't touch the cake was Jayne, who pointed out in what he thought was a reasonable tone that they could have taken an antidote and that they should really kill them now. He shut up when Zoe threatened to shoot him.

When they were done, Kaylee and Zoe cleaned off the table and Inara and Mal got the presents, placing them in the living area.

Simon sat on the couch, with all of the presents in front of him and River leaning against him, curled in a ball. Inara and Kaylee sat in the chairs, while the rest of the crew lounged on the floor.

Picking up a large, bright pink present that an over-eager Kaylee thrust into his hands, Simon carefully unwrapped it to reveal a large set of doctor's supplies. River immediately recoiled and hid in the corner between Kaylee's chair and the wall. They were unable to coax her out until Simon put the equipment away, after hugging Kaylee and causing her to turn red.

When they were all re-situated, Simon picked up a tasteful red present with gold ribbon from Inara. Opening it, he revealed a small bar of chocolate, causing River to crawl onto his lap and give him the puppy dog eyes until he relinquished the bar to her, which she immediately promised to share with Kaylee.

Smiling, Simon opened an oddly shaped blue package from Wash, revealing a plastic dinosaur.

"Um, thanks," said Simon, looking confused. Wash beamed.

"It's one of my favorites," he confided. Simon nodded, trying to change his expression to one of deep gratitude. River giggled when he slipped her the toy.

Mal and Zoe got him a brown jacket, which he quickly put on, rolling up the too long sleeves. River smiled at the appreciation coming from her brother. This present was a way of saying he belonged, and her brother was thrilled.

Book gave him a bible, which River eyed. Inara handed him River's present, which he spent five minutes exclaiming over, before he finally accepted Jayne's present.

It was a gun, with a bow stuck on it. Simon almost dropped it before hurriedly sticking it with his things so that River wouldn't take it.

When they were done, with a final rousing chorus of the Happy Birthday song, the crew stretched out, enjoying the downtime.

Kaylee took River's place on the couch, talking to Simon about anything that came to mind. Wash tried to interest Jayne and Zoe in a game of dinosaurs as Inara and Mal cleaned up the paper and dishes and got into a large argument involving the use of soapy water as they hurled insults at each other.

River stretched out on the ground and went to work fixing Simon's bible while Book sat next to her and tried to persuade her to stop. River didn't listen. After all, how could Simon read a broken book? It would just give him a head ache.

Suddenly River looked up, eyes wide and curious.

"When it's my birthday, can I have a gun too?"


	3. C is for Clocks

**C is for Clocks**

_Clock: __an instrument for measuring and recording time, especially by mechanical means, usually with hands or changing numbers to indicate the hour and minute: not designed to be worn or carried about._

River likes clocks. They kept order to the world, their hands ticking away, churning out seconds and minutes and hours. She has a clock on Serenity, a small one made of polished wood and bronze.

Inara gave it to her when she found her looking, for the twentieth time, at it in her shuttle, her eyes glued to it as she counted out the seconds.

They'd had clocks at the Tam estate, clocks in every room. Regan Tam liked clocks too, it showed her when to eat, when to sleep, when to invite her friends over for lunch, and when to hold her kids at the _proper_ times.

River thinks her mother was more dictated by society than the clock, but she kept her observations to herself. It wasn't polite to be mean.

Their father liked clocks too, but for a different reason. They showed him when he could escape the house for work, and when he had to come home. Though for Gabriel, work was home and home was work. At least, that's how River told Simon when she was four and waiting for her father to come home so he could read her a story. Simon had hushed her and trundled her of to bed, reading her the story instead.

When she was young, clocks were evil things for River. They moved too fast when she wanted more time for playing or reading or dancing, and too slowly when she was trapped in her lessons, her eyes greedily tracing the second hand around and around and around.

Then, in the Academy, she missed them. Pieces of her day fell away, leaving her unsure if minutes or hours had passed since she blinked. She could never remember when she was to sleep, or eat, or fight.

She organized her days around her sessions with Dr. Mathias and her sessions with the Interviewer. Then Simon had come and pulled her away and she was thrust back into a world where people cared if you ate in the middle of the night or if you slept on top of the table at noon.

At first River had hidden from the noise and the order, feeling like a shoe that was too small of a bracelet that was too big. Then she appreciated it, the way she always knew what to do, when to do it. It made her focus, shoved the shadows and darkness to the back of the mind so that she didn't have to focus on them.

Yes, River Tam loved clocks.


	4. D is for Dance

**D is for Dance**

_Dance: to move one's feet or body, or both, rhythmically in a pattern of steps, especially to the accompaniment to music._

Clink of fork, swish of water, babble of voices, break, and repeat. River's foot was moving up and down, following the steps to a dance she didn't know. The music was growing louder, crowding out every thought.

Simon frowned, worried, and reached over to push her plate closer to her, gesturing her to eat. The sound sent a ripple through the music, changed from guitar to harp and back again.

She closed her eyes, willing it away. Fingers tapping against the table, in time with the beat. She opened her eyes, looked around for the noise. Take out a piece and the whole thing collapses. Looks down, realizes they're her own.

River frowns, trying to stop them, but they are out of control, bounding away from her like a deer as they flaunt their ability to follow the music she can't seem to dance to.

One two three four, one two three four. Over and over until she wants to scream. Simon says something but all she hears are bells as a parade of musical notes falls from his mouth.

She pushes back her chair, trying to get away from all the noise, all the music. Notes follow her from the room, drum and bass, flute and piano, guitar and harp. Never ending, never ceasing.

River finds herself in the cargo bay, and she smiles, relaxes in the silence. She doesn't stiffen when she hears the music again. This time it's soft and sweet, not overwhelming, bet beckoning.

She finds her fingers tapping again, her foot tracing small circles on the floor. The music races through her veins and she feels a hand raise up, arm in a perfect crescent.

And then she's dancing, her feet flying as she whirls and twirls across the metal floor, feet gliding across it like they're skates and it's the ice.

Turn, sink to floor, extend arms, and back up for a spin, leg kicking high. Then it's time for the finale and she leaps across the room, foot kicking high again and then she sinks downwards in a curtsy.

She hears clapping and she turns to see Simon smiling down at her. She beams at him, motioning him to join.

He comes down the stairs and bows like a proper gentleman before taking her hand and spinning her away, dancing with her. They spin around, and River remembers a time when she was younger, so small she had to stand on Simon's feet to reach his hands.

She giggles and comes to a standstill in the middle of the dance. The music's flowed out of her now, leaving her empty. Simon brings her back to the kitchen, where the rest of the crew pretends not to have noticed the way she left before.

River eats and listens and watches until the music starts to grow again and then she's off, running to meet the music and to lose herself in the dance.


	5. E is for Empty

**E is for Empty**

River was empty, a vessel waiting to be filled. She used to be full of happiness and sunshine, of dance and song. But then she went there, to the place with needles and doctors and blue.

They cracked her open, took out all the things inside of her, stole all the presents and left only coal. Tried to tell Simon, but he didn't listen. No one ever listens to her, not then, not now.

Crazy, cracked, _gorram rutting moonbrain_. It's what they all think, even though no one says it. Except ape-man, but he doesn't count.

She's empty, so empty. They tried to fill her up at the Academy, poured in blue and hate and violence. She fought so hard, pushed it back out of the cracks that it entered. _Bad girl River_. Didn't matter, the more she fought the more they put in.

She just wanted to dance and do physics. Why was that so hard to understand, comprehend? They told her that she was silly, stupid. _You're just a little girl River. We know better. Trust us, we're doctors._

That's what Simon was but he didn't try to fill her up. At least, not then. Now she's not so sure. He pours in medicine and smoothers. Just wants her to be better, sleep better. Doesn't understand that the River's gone, flowed away, out the cracks and down the drain.

They replaced it with their project, their creation. It's like ice inside her, flowing down her limbs and paralyzing her mind, her body moving by itself. Can't stop the signal.

But now she's away, _gone with the wind_. She has no purpose, no mission, nothing to fill her and patch up the cracks. Simon tries with glue and tape. But she's empty. He can smooth the clay of the pot but he can't fill it up.

"I'm empty," she tells him, cornering him in the kitchen. He stares at her, worried. "They took out everything, stole the water to fill their moat and left the fishes to die."

So many thoughts flood his mind, and she just wants to scream. He has water, why can't she? She's special, they told her so many times; after she read their minds or they stuck her full of needles.

"I'm not a pincushion," she tells him, but he doesn't listen, doesn't understand or comprehend.

Wasn't she the one who wasn't supposed to do that? Picked up a stick that turned into a gun and she told them, but they don't listen to her, never listen. Why won't they listen? If they listen she can tell them that she's empty, and replace the water so that the fishes won't drown.

"You don't listen," she tells Mal in the cargo bay. He just stares at her and calls Simon to come and take her away and fill her with drugs.

Takes his medkit and throws it against the wall. He tries to fill her up again, but it's not the right kind of liquid. Take her blood and replace it with water. After all, aren't humans seventy percent water? She should have more, she's a special River.

"The human body can be drained of blood in 8.6 seconds given adequate vacuuming systems," she tells him, trying to help so that he can understand. After all, if she can't, he should be able to. He's her brother, picks up the slack.

He stares at her and looks away, refusing to see the cracks that cover her, the emptiness that fills her, always hungry, reaching, snatching. It's like the lab techs and Dr. Mathias and the two by two hands of blue. Like Jayne on Ariel, sitting there with them, a sitting duck, surrounded by feds and still thinking of the money.

"Don't look in the closet, it's greedy, not in the spirit of the season," she tells Simon, knowing it doesn't matter, that he'll still trust ape-man no matter what. Refuses to turn on the light, see the truth.

He tells her it's time to wake up, to end the nightmares, and she listens, hopes he can fill her, give her purpose. It doesn't work, never works, because chaos comes back and _it's fluid and she doesn't know what she is._

He tells her she's his sister, but that doesn't give her a purpose, a mission. Dr. Mathias gave her a mission once. Stabbed the guard with a pen, let the blood float free. _River_ and _kill_ and _I can see you_.

She doesn't have a mission until the men threaten Kaylee, and she sees her friend, sister, playmate, in trouble. Goes and takes the gun and _can't look, can't look_. Bang bang bang, pretty red dots.

Looks at Kaylee and smiles. "No power in the 'verse can stop me." And for a second, the jug shifts, the river re-routes, and water floods in and the fishes can breathe and for a second, she not empty.


	6. F is for Firefly

**F is for Firefly**

_Firefly: __any nocturnal beetle of the family Lampyridae, characterized by a soft body with a light-producing organ at the rear of the abdomen._

The dots of light float in front of her, dancing and twirling, blinking and glowing. They spin around her and she twirls with them, a tornado in the center of the ship.

She stops when she's dizzy and staggering, her mind whirling like a top. Not the normal spinning, when it's like a storm, making all the words float away on little scraps of paper so she can't organize them right; but the good kind of spinning, like after she dances with Simon or turns thirty cartwheels in a row down the short hallway.

She grabs at one of the lights and it darts away, light blinking on and off. Smiling, River holds out her hand until finally one of them lands, trying to rest from their frantic dance. She brings her hand closer to her face, studying the insect.

Serenity was a firefly too. They light up sometimes too, when they have a job or Mal and Inara get along or Simon can have a conversation with Kaylee without insulting her.

They rested sometimes, usually on a rim planet far away enough from the Alliance so that River and Simon could join the crew on their outings. They could go on picnics or take hikes or run through the forest and play tag with Mal yelling at them to be careful because so help him he _will_ leave them behind if they fall and die.

They spun through the 'verse, whirling through the stars. They didn't dance though, because every time she managed to persuade Wash to let her fly Mal yanked her away from the helm.

River didn't understand why. Tried to explain that Serenity _wanted_ to dance, but he didn't listen and had deposited in the kitchen next to her brother and told her to make herself useful for a change.

Frowns and shakes away the thought. Doesn't matter now, it's irrelevant. He'll let her fly someday. He'll have to.

But now she can dance with the pretty lights that fill the cargo bay, can spin around and around forever. And even though they will leave eventually, because River knows they will, she'll still have Serenity and her crew, her family, of fireflies to dance with.


	7. G is for Glamour

**G is for Glamour**

_Glamour: a façade, an image overlaid over something else, often to make the object or person more desirable._

River can feel the monsters coming closer, their voices loud and grating. She curls up tighter, her arms wrapping around her legs. Footsteps are echoing, coming closer and closer. Soft breath blows across her neck and she shudders, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that she can see colors exploding.

Something touches her shoulder and she lets out a shriek and draws her legs closer to her chest, ignoring the pain screaming through her muscles.

"River?" It's a panicked voice, and she recognizes it, the cadence filtering through the haze in her brain.

"Simon?" It's a question, but one she already knows the answer to. Simon, because it's Simon and not a monster, breathes out a sigh of relief and releases his hold on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asks, hope in his voice. She knows why he's hopeful, why he's so happy that he feels like he'll float away if he's not careful. Thinks he's found the answer, the cure.

She knows it's not, how can it be? He can't fix her, no one can. Words run like whispers run like poison through her and everything is tilting and twisting and the monsters are surrounding her and waiting to tear her apart.

She knows that she can tell the truth, should tell the truth, because she's a good girl and she shouldn't tell lies or they'll come with needles and tear into her brain and rip out the disobedience so that she has to tell them the truth because she's a puppet and they're her puppet masters and they don't care that the strings are worn and broken and she dances lopsidedly because she's theirs and _only they can control her._

She wants to tell him, she wants him to make the pain and the dizziness go away so she's fixed and can dance again without worrying about pieces flaking away. She wants to tell him because the obedience is so deeply written in her, because they could always tell when she was lying and she's not sure if he will too or not.

But she can't destroy him twice, tear down his beliefs and walls and systems and grind them into dust. Stomp and tear and rip pieces of his soul away until she's not the only one with broken parts and missing pieces.

"Yes." It comes out as a whisper, her voice hoarse. She flinches automatically, waits for the anger and the blow and the needle, but nothing happens. Simon beams and lets out a laugh and hugs her tightly, something he hasn't done for so long because he's terrified that he'll break her. He can't see her hands curled into fists, the nails digging into her palms.

He pulls away, eyes sparkling, and after several more reassurances he runs away, taking the laughter and happiness with him, away from her and towards the rest of the crew, where he'll spread the news around until it's shiny from being touched and smooth from being handled.

River gets up and follows him, practicing her smile while they pass her around like a shiny new toy, excited that she's better, that she's fixed.

River thinks that Inara can see through her sometimes, can see that the smiles don't reach her eyes and that her palms are scarred from her fingers digging into flesh. After all, Inara's the master of deception, the champion at hiding behind a pretty little mask. But she's fallen into her own trap, eyes seeing only what she wants to see and not perceiving the truth.

So River smiles and laughs and makes sure that she's alone when the monsters catch up to her and the voices become too much and she has to scream. They can't see that she's barely holding herself together, fingertips raw from hanging onto the cliff. It's a fight she losing, and she knows she will have to fall one day.

But for now the crew can be happy and carefree, at least as much as they are able to, and River will laugh and smile and wrap herself in the safety of her glamour.


	8. H is for Hike

**H is for Hike**

_Hike:_ _to walk or march a great distance, especially through rural areas, __for__ pleasure, exercise, military training, or the like._

River lifted her face to the sky, letting the sun warm her face. Bright light washed her face and her eyelids turned red. River giggled. The sun tickled, it wanted to play.

"Simon, the sun wants to play," she informed him, turning her face towards the sound of her brother unpacking the crate of medical supplies Mal had brought back.

"Okay River," he said absently, running his fingers over the drug labels. "We can play with the sun later."

River frowned and turned her face back to the sun. "Simon doesn't want to play with you," she informed it solemnly. The sun dimmed slightly and River felt a flicker of remorse. "I'm sorry," she told it, trying to sound sincere.

"For what?" broke in a suspicious voice. A shadow rose up, blocking off the sun and forcing River to open her eyes. Mal stood there, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Did you blow something up?" he didn't wait for her answer before turning towards Simon. "Doc, did she blow something up?"

Simon barely looked up. "Not that I know of," he said distractedly. He paused for a second then picked something up. "I'll be right back," he said, already up and heading for the stairs. Mal stared after him for a second before refocusing on River, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Simon doesn't want to play with the sun," River told him, waiting for him to move. Mal blinked then nodded.

"Okay. If that's all I'm going to go make sure your brother isn't trying to steal some of my cargo." He walked off quickly, and River turned her face back up to the sun.

"I can play with you," she offered. The sun brightened again and bobbed up and down, briefly transforming into a strawberry. River smiled up at it.

"We can play follow the leader," she said with a grin. With a quick glance about her she padded quickly down the cargo bay ramp and onto the soft green grass that covered Helios.

Lights twinkled, purple and mysterious, leading her into the forest that surrounded the ship. River smiled and danced after them. She wondered if they would feel warm to the touch, but they just dissolved into sparkles when she reached for one.

One last glance around and she carefully placed one foot into the forest, watching as she slid from sunlight to shadows, warm to cool. Shadows cast stripes onto her skin and she spun, watching them whirl.

River kept walking, the ground cool and soft beneath her bare feet. Birds sang in the trees, the melody echoing hauntingly amidst the trees.

She paused in front of a giant oak, covered in moss, and reached out a finger to touch it. A face appeared and a dryad smiled up at her, pulling out of the tree slightly, wide green eyes set in a white face traced with pale green veins. Her hair twisted into thick ropes of bark and moss, stretching and disappearing into the tree.

River laughed and moved onwards, tilting her head up to watch the arbor of green stretch above her, blue glimmering through the cracks. Sunlight dappled the ground and the lights led her onwards, ever deeper.

She steps into a clearing and smiles as the sun swoops down on white wings to give her a hug.

"Found you," she laughs, and the sun laughs too. It spins around her in a vortex of light and warmth, dancing.

She laughs again and sits down onto the soft green grass, tilting her head up so that she can stare at the sun. Just as it gets too bright she glances away, reaching out to touch the blue shapes that float in front of her.

River runs her hands across the grass and flowers spring up, daises and wildflowers, petals as soft as silk against her skin. She picks a few wildflowers and throws them, violet and green, against the blue sky.

They go up, up, up and then white flower petals rain down, sparkling like diamonds. They fall into her hair and she shakes her head, watching them arc through the air, trailing rainbows.

She turns her attention back to the daisies and idly begins to pick and braid, listening quietly as the sun tells her stories of far off lands and strange people. She thinks it knows everything there is to know, but it tells her that it only knows what happens during the day. Only the moon and the stars know what happens in the twilight hours before dawn.

River likes the moon, but it never talks to her. It's cold and beautiful up in the sky, always regal and graceful. She wishes that it would sing to her, like it did once long ago when she was lying in her bed crying because Simon was never going to come for her.

It had the most beautiful voice, all crystal and bells and china.

The stars are different. They laugh and sing and play like children and River loves them for that. But they can't focus and they're always moving on, leaving her behind in their games and dances and songs until she doesn't know the rules or steps or words.

The sun laughs at her and tells her she doesn't need the night when she has the day. River smiles in response and holds up her daisy crown. The sun laughs and touches it and the flowers turn red streaked with white.

River slips it onto her head and feels the stems twine with her hair. Giggling she leaps up and runs across the clearing and back among the trees, dancing from one shadow to the next, playing hide and seek.

The sun chases her, light chasing away shadows until it chases her laughing back to the ship and back onboard, out of breath and with a stitch in her side.

The crew greets her with shouts and hugs and questions.

"Where were you?" Simon demanded finally, raising his voice to be heard above the others. River smiles and tilts her head, feeling the daisy crown slip backwards.

"I was playing with the sun in the forest," she tells him. Simon gives her a smile but it's weak and there's tears in his eyes. She reaches up and touches his cheek.

"Simon, I was fine," she reassures him. "The sun looked after me." Simon smiles at her again, more sadly this time, and pulls her closely against him.

"River, we're in space. There is no forest here."


	9. I is for Icarus

**I is for Icarus**

_Icarus: a youth who attempted to escape from Crete with wings of wax and feathers but flew so high that his wings melted from the heat of the sun, and he plunged to his death in the sea._

River knows the story of Icarus and Daedalus, knows the wings and the wax and the fall. She read it long ago and far away, in a room that smelled of roses and dust and old parchment.

She'd been looking for a place to dance without being disturbed, a place where she could whirl and twirl and leap and spin, and she'd stumbled upon the room instead.

The Tam estate was large, and not even River, who had unlocked the most secrets, seen the most treasures, knew everything. Only the butler, an old man who creaked whenever he walked named Ji Han, knew more than she did.

The book was gray with dust when she pulled it off the shelves, but when she blew on it, the dust motes flying through the air, it was the color of wine, rich and red.

Gold ink and colorful pictures filled the brittle pages, so delicate that River was almost afraid to touch them, worried they would crumble like dust in her hands.

She'd read the story over and over, hands tracing the feathers on the wings, the laughing form of Icarus, Daedalus's face when Icarus fell. She'd read until the sun set and the shadows stretched across the floor like fingers of ink.

She never found her way back there, never did find out if it was real. River thinks sometimes, when she's on the ramp, staring hungrily out at the world, that it was simply a dream, a memory that wasn't hers.

They did that sometimes, gave her a memory that's not hers. Small things really, a joke that she never shared with Simon, a trip she never took. River tries not to examine the bigger things too closely. She doesn't want to know how much of her life is a lie anymore.

She knows that the room, if it was ever real, is probably closed now, the books abandoned on their shelves. She knows she'll never go back.

But the story remains, haunting her. Words twine behind closed eyes, whispering to her. There are too many parallels to ignore now, too many things that add up.

Simon is Daedalus, wise old man who freed them from the evil king and spirited them away, fashioning them wings out of scrap metal and engine pieces.

She can soar now, flying ever higher. She's intoxicated by her freedom, sun on her back wind in her hair. Simon laughs below her, but he's worried, always worried. He knows it's not safe, and she knows it too, but she pushes it down, ignores logic and abandons rules.

For now her wings will hold and she will see everything and know even more. She will dance on the air and spin through the storm. She will enjoy it while she can.

River knows the story of Icarus and Daedalus, knows the wings and the wax and the fall. She has the wings and the wax, and now all she can do is wait for the fall.

Because she knows when it happens, it will be a long way down.


	10. J is for Jealousy

**J is for Jealousy**

_Jealousy: resentment against a rival, a person enjoying an advantage or success, or against another's success or advantage itself._

"All right then, any questions?" asked Mal, clapping his hands together at the head of the table. The crew exchanged glances, some worried, others excited.

River smiled and moved closer to Simon. So many questions were flashing through their minds they sounded like an orchestra with all the musicians playing at once, each trying to be heard.

"Are you sure it's completely safe on a core planet?" asked Simon cautiously, picking the question he thought the most important.

"Well if you keep your head low and your nose clean you should be fine," said Mal calmly. Simon tensed, stuck on the 'should' part of the sentence. River glanced up at her brother.

"Anubis has one of the lowest crime rates on the core planets, behind only Osiris and Ariel. There were only three hundred reported instances of serious crimes for the whole planet last year. Brawls and fights are the lowest in this system, and the planet is remarkably well kept for a population of one hundred thousand nine hundred thirty-four.

There is a thirteen percent chance we will be caught by officials, and only a five percent chance we will be caught by someone who can actually keep us locked up. Simon, there will be real grass. And we can see the sky and eat ice cream in the park."

She pulled out the puppy dog eyes and gave him her most hopeful look. He stared at her, his resolve crumbling.

"The yes, I'm fine with going," he said, turning to address Mal.

Mal muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'I don't care whether you want to go or not.' Simon ignored him and River frowned at him.

"Don't be mean," she lectured. Now Mal ignored her.

"How long will we be there?" asked Kaylee excitedly, glancing at Simon. Mal smiled at her indulgently.

"Three hours, give or take. This is just a fuel stop remember, but you lot should have enough time to take a walk or do a little shopping."

Jayne glanced sideways at River. "You know if there are any good bars around?" he asked her. River beamed at him and he scooted backwards slightly.

"There are five bars around the town of Terra," she told him. "Two are frequented by Alliance officials as they are located near their headquarters." Jayne nodded and looked away.

Zoe and Wash were making plans to go shopping at the other end of the table, and Book and Inara were discussing local tourist options within a short distance of the ship.

"Hey Simon," said Kaylee, leaning across the table to look get his attention. "How about we go get some lunch together? I hear there's this really good restaurant in town." Simon nodded and Kaylee smiled, her whole face lighting up. Like the sun, River thought miserably.

Simon hesitated and glanced at River. "Can River come too?" he asked Kaylee slowly. Kaylee's smile faltered slightly, just enough to be noticed.

Inara glanced between Kaylee and Simon, reading the situation in a glance.

"Book and I would be delighted to take River with us," she said smoothly, smiling at River. "She might enjoy the local architecture."

River felt tears well up in her eyes. "I thought we were going to the park," she said softly. Simon looked worried now, eyes flicking back and forth between Kaylee and River.

"I.." he said awkwardly. River felt anger and more than a little jealousy flare up inside of her. Simon loved her, but with Kaylee it was different. Kaylee was the sun, lighting up his world, and after so long among the shadows, Simon craved the light.

Kaylee was light and open and free. She didn't have any secrets that tore her apart, any programming that could cause her to destroy the ship before she regained her sanity. She wasn't broken or babbling or screaming and throwing things.

River was the moon in this case, a broken moon whose dark side showed more than its light. She _was _broken and babbling, darkness and shadows next to Kaylee's light.

Simon was her earth, her core, the one thing that she revolved around, always knowing he was there for her. And now he was choosing his own path, choosing to circle the sun.

"You follow the sun but it blinds you," she babbled, the words falling out of her mouth, and she was unable to stop them. "Don't want the broken girl anymore, want to snap your shackles and be free. You'll leave me behind, Prometheus on a rock to be torn apart by vultures."

Simon stared at her in horror. "River, I'm not going to abandon you," he gasped, oblivious to the fact that everyone had gone quiet and was staring at them. "I was just going to have dinner with Kaylee. I can stay with you if you want." Across the table, Mal winced.

"What?" asked Kaylee, both angry and hurt. "Simon, you keep promising to go with me, and now you're blowing me off? If you don't want to go with me then just tell me!" She was glaring at Simon, angry tears in her eyes.

"Kaylee, I want to go with you but River…" Simon trailed off helplessly. River swallowed a sob.

"You like her because she's the sun, but she's using you," she spat, unable to stop the rush of emotions running through her. Kaylee's anger and jealousy and hurt broke down her walls, and the other's rushed in, spiking higher and higher. "Just wants you because you're new, different."

Kaylee let out a gasp, hurt and anger flaring through her and throwing more kerosene on River's inner fire.

"Now that ain't so!" Kaylee glared at a horrified Simon. "I make excuses for you all the time, but I want to spend time with you, not just you and your sister."

"Package deal," sobbed River. "But the sun blocks out the moon, and I'm thrown in a corner to be covered with dust. Stupid broken porcelain doll!"

Kaylee opened her mouth, presumably to say something else, but Mal interrupted.

"Whoa now! Break it up here. River, just cause you're upset is no cause for being rude. And you Kaylee, snapping right back at her. Both of you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Now, how about you just ask the doc instead of fighting over him!" He gestured grandly to Simon, who winced as two sights of eyes, one pair flashing indignantly and the other filled with tears, turned towards him.

"Meep," was the only sound he could produce.

"I just wanted to play in the park," said River sadly. "Wanted to run and dance and eat ice cream." Simon reached for her but she pulled away. "Plants wither without sun, need light to grow." She stared up at him sadly. "I'll go away and leave you alone now. Little moon can't fight with an eclipse."

She jumped out of her seat and ran out of the room, ignoring the calls of her brother behind her. She could feel the emotions in her swirling, fighting their way out of her as they each clawed their way to the top of the pile.

She found herself outside of one of Serenity's many hiding places and crawled inside, curling into a ball. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she cried until, spent, she fell asleep.

Someone grabbed her shoulder suddenly and she jumped, her hands already grabbing and twisting before she realized what she was doing and released the hand in horror.

"Did you have to try and break my wrist albatross?" asked Mal from his position outside the hole, holding his injured wrist with his other hand. It was darker now, the lights dimming as the ship changed to the evening cycle.

"Sorry," she said softly, trying to blend into the wall of her corner. All she ever did was hurt people, first Simon, then Kaylee, and now Mal.

"We'll be landing tomorrow," he told her. "And Simon's going to take Kaylee out to eat." River winced, and Mal gave her a sympathetic look.

"I know you wanted to go to the park, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go with me? I may not be much fun, but at least your brother can't complain. 'Sides, if you're good I might get you some ice cream, let you have another crack at that ice planet." He winked at her, giving her a small smile.

River threw her arms around him and felt him stiffen before he awkwardly returned her hug.

"I'll take that as a yes then," he said. River nodded; she was smiling too much to answer.

**A/N: This story is dedicated to my twin sister, who gave me the prompt, the plot, and told me what she wanted to happen. Love you buddy!**


	11. K is for Kingdom

**K is for Kingdom**

_Kingdom: anything conceived as constituting a realm or sphere of independent action or control._

The covers formed a soft bubble over her head as she drew, delicately etching every line. She pulled the covers down more, trying to cut off even the faintest hint of light that tried to invade her sanctuary.

Soft footsteps padded down the hallway and paused outside of her door. She froze, not even breathing, and she heard Simon give a soft sigh of relief before moving onwards.

Smiling, she went back to her drawing, squinting in the murky light that made it through the cotton blankets. Everything was quiet here, muted, the loudest sound her quiet breathing and the scratch of her pencil on paper.

The paper was almost purple, and her skin was a deep blue violet. Shadows surrounded her, a blue so dark it was almost black. She could barely see the lines that swirled across her paper, but she knew where they were.

In here she was completely cut off from the rest of the ship. There were no sounds of people eating in the kitchen or talking and laughing in various other rooms. No sound of Kaylee working on the engine or Simon organizing his supplies.

Here she was alone with only the scratch of the pencil and the rustle of the blanket and the quiet passage of air as it slipped past her lips.

Here, in a private little kingdom of her own making, she could slip away from her life and dream, if only for a little while.


	12. L is for Lullaby

**L is for Lullaby**

_Lullaby: any lulling song_

_Row row row your boat_

_Gently down the stream._

_Merrily merrily merrily merrily_

_Life is but a dream._

They're always stuck in her head nowadays, these words. They've moved in and taken up residence. They're the music she dances to, the words that leave Simon's mouth when he talks to her. They're the words that make the walls solid and the engine spin.

First her mother and then Simon used to sing them to her when she was a little girl afraid of the dark. She's not afraid of the dark now. No, she's afraid of what lives in the dark.

She used to wonder what they meant, the words and the lullaby as a whole. Used to spend hours thinking, staring up at the ceiling and building worlds out of the cracks. But she's figured it out now, the secret. The words are like the code she sent Simon and now the pieces have all fallen into place and she _knows_.

Nothing matters anymore, not the words that tumble out of her mouth as she is unable to stop them, not the medicine that Simon gives her, not the wanted posters or the bounty or the two by two hands of blue.

Mal is shot, bleeding on the table as Simon works over him, stitching the wound up quickly and efficiently with his doctor hands. River watches with the rest of the crew, standing in the infirmary (she was so silly to be afraid of this place, she sees that now). She feels sorry for the rest of the crew, they can't see as clearly as she does. She laughs when Kaylee asks if Mal was going to die, and tells her it doesn't matter. (she gets a lot of funny looks and she wonders why)

Mal lives, and the ship seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief. But the Alliance notices them and they're off again, heading to the Rim. She and Simon are supposed to keep low and stay on the ship. River shrugs and wonders why Simon sighs.

Simon seems so upset these days and she can't understand why. Surely her brother, smart as he is, has figured it out? But no, he frets and fusses over Kaylee when she falls and breaks her leg coming down the stairs. River watches in confusion from her perch on the counter as he curses his lack of sophisticated anesthetics.

He's suffering, her brother, so she gives him a hint, pulls him aside and tells him the words. She smiles up at him as he frowns and tries to puzzle through them. When he shakes his head she frowns. Why can't he see what she does so clearly? Maybe every person needs to work it out for themselves?

But he's her brother and he's struggling, like he used to do on his homework all those years ago. She needs to help him, she decides. He deserves to be happy again, deserves to smile instead of watching Kaylee with anguish as she struggles to learn how to use crutches while her leg heals for that required eight weeks. (he thinks he should have been there to grab her, can't see that he would have just fallen too.)

She trips Jayne when he passes her in the kitchen and he falls and cuts his hand on the knife he's carrying. Simon yells at her but she tunes him out.

Silly brother, silly crew. They still can't see, blinded by their own minds. She sighs and rolls her eyes and tunes them out.

_Merrily merrily merrily merrily_

_Life is but dream._

_Life is but a dream._


	13. M is for Memory

**M is for Memory**

_Memory: the mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences._

They messed with her memories in that place, took them out and rifled through them, discarding some, adding others. They put them back in stained with fingerprints and ink drops. No respect for personal property, she thinks.

They're in the wrong order now, then next and so finally first. All mixed up, crumpled and bent and dog-eared. Once her mind was organized, now it's a kaleidoscope filled with colors and sounds and voices.

_The memory, it's not mine_. She shouldn't have to carry it. No, them. Plural. The probability that there are more false memories is too high to discount.

She hates that thought, that what she remembers could be false, untrue. Hates the thought that she doesn't know how much of her life is true or made up. Her first day of school, true or false? Did she really play dinosaurs with Simon when she was younger, or did they plant that in there for their own amusement? The park, the swings, ice cream and nightmares and movies and dance recitals. Fake, all fake, unless they're true.

And she doesn't know can't tell. Tries to share a joke with Simon that she remembers laughing about when they were twelve and eighteen, but he just gives her a quick grin and a chuckle and asks her where she heard that one, because he doesn't know it. Then he asks her why she's crying.

Sometimes she wonders why they did it, planted these false impressions. They didn't get anything out of it as far as she can see. They didn't give her fears or nightmares that they can use to tap into her amygdala and spike the fear until she's screaming and taking down every person that touches her in the little room where they've placed her.

They only gave her happy moments; jokes they shared, Simon brushing her hair when she was younger, late nights curled up on their couch or on Simon's bed reading and talking.

But then, when she reaches for a memory to hold onto, a rock to stand on in a tumbling sea of chaos, she sees that it shimmers around the edges and the rock breaks and she falls back in. One step forwards, two steps back. At this rate she won't ever make it out, and she'll be forever sinking.

And that's when she knows why they did this to her, gave her moments of happiness. Because if they're false, she has nothing to cling to. Start with one hundred good memories, get rid of the fake, and what are you left with? She'll burn through her supply and then she'll be drifting, wandering in a desert grabbing at mirages.

But for now she'll store her memories, gather them into a glittering pile and clutch them, like a dragon with his gold. She'll take them out one by one, measuring them over a set period of time, holding onto that rock in the sea until her fingers are too sore to hold on any longer.

Because even now her memory is crumbling around her, silver dust drifting in clouds, and she's dodging the stones that fall from the roof.


	14. N is for Nirvana

**N is for Nirvana**

_Nirvana:_ _a place or state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world._

Nirvana, heaven, paradise. Different words, same meanings. Synonyms, not antonyms. Garden of Eden, oblivion, Elysium. Many names for one object, one state of being.

River used to live in her own personal paradise, her own personal nirvana. It was filled with light and music and Simon and ice cream on a hot summer's day. It shined and sparkled and glimmered in her mind, thousands of diamond-bright facets reflecting the sunlight and refracting the light into rainbows.

Everything was perfect, never a cloud in her clear blue sky, never a harsh word or raised voice or smoke and smog that clogged the air and made it difficult to breathe.

Then she got her letter, her perfect eggshell white letter sealed with a diamond imprint in ruby wax, and she laughed and clapped and danced a dance through the fields of butterflies.

She built a building of white marble, shining and clean, and placed the letter on a raised pedestal in the center of the room.

But reality came and fire washed over her with silver light and the world turned ashy and gray and black burnt to a crisp. Bars on the windows and she's trapped in that house, unable to destroy the letter that trails green poison tendrils into the air.

Sometimes she climbs out an unbarred window and stands on the once-green now brown-dirt-stained-with-red lawn and feels the sun beat down on her face, sees the dancers and hears the music. But always the walls spring back up and she's back in the building, hidden away from her perfect little paradise.


	15. O is for Over

**O is for Over**

_Over: finished, completed, at an end._

River's life is over.

When she was young her life was boring dinner parties where she was expected to play the role of a brilliant but perfect daughter. Her life was dance recitals and correcting textbooks and playing games with Simon.

Then she grew older and her life was more dances and even more parties and less classes and time to play with Simon. Her parents were focused only on finding a good match for their rebellious daughter to keep her out of the way while their son, who fit into their life so much better, became a brilliant surgeon that they could be proud to talk about.

After that her life was tests and cold lab tables and needles. Her life was wandering the hallways and hiding in corners and blue gloves. Hallucinations and drugs and interviews. Letters that she knew probably never arrived and letters she was never sure were even sent.

Simon came and took her away and her life was more needles and metal ships and blazing guns. Sit at the table and eat your food, don't play with it. Her life was being ushered out of the way of other people and being locked in her room or any of the other cubbyholes on Serenity.

She's a phoenix, constantly being reborn, growing up, growing old, burning, and being reborn. She's stuck in a cycle that never seems to end, and sometimes she thinks she can see herself smoking.

She's a caterpillar that keeps building itself a cocoon but who never seems to become a butterfly, who can't ever spread her wings and fly. (She's looked for her wings but even when she throws herself off of tall things they don't burst out of her back and carry her away)

XXXXXXXXXX

There are people yelling and waving guns around in the dining room and she sits on the couch and watches. Simon slams his fist down and stomps over to her, his face hard.

"Everyone's so angry," she tells him, looking up. Simon starts crying and she's not sure why. He takes her arm, pulling her up, and guides her down the hallways and down into the cargo bay and out the door.

They're off the ship now and in the busy streets of New Cairo. She looks behind her and tries not to smile. Simon forgot her combat boots, and she can feel the earth humming beneath her bare feet, speaking of new places and old acquaintances. It tells a story and sings a song and River wants to listen.

"It's better this way," Simon tells her when they find themselves in a small house in the woods where there is no one around to ask why she is hanging from the highest branch of the tallest tree by her knees.

"At least we're together," he tells her when they're on a new ship where no one smiles or eats apples or plays with dinosaurs. River gives him a confused smile and goes back to drawing her pretty pictures with the crayons Simon gave her for her birthday.

"Just like old times," he tells her with a forced smile as they are brought into an almost abandoned town at gunpoint and told to make themselves useful. River nods and tries to find some berries, but it's winter and there aren't any.

"I'll knit," she tells him, because he's not speaking like he usually does. They're in a large white room where the stainless steel metal furniture is bolted to the floor, and a man in a gray uniform is talking to them. Simon looks at her and cries. She wonders why.

River's life is over, and she wonders what the next one will bring.


	16. P is for Parents

**A/N: This chapter is at the request of one of my reviewers, so I hope you like it! I tried my best!**

**P is for Parents**

_Parents: A father or mother; a protector or guardian._

River used to have a family. She had a mother, and a father, and a brother. They had lived in the same house, eaten the same meals, gone to the same places and knew the same people. They had been rich, and privileged, and she had everything she could have ever wanted. Her life was perfect. And fake.

She knows that now. Knows that her perfect little life was all just a lie, like a Styrofoam apple that you think is real until you sink your teeth into it.

Her parents never really loved her, except maybe in those first few months where she still acted like a normal baby, before she started speaking in full sentences and reading grown up books and correcting her brother's spelling.

She didn't fit into their life, their pattern. They had a son who was going to be a brilliant surgeon and who did whatever they told him. Simon was smart, and followed the rules, and everyone loved him. For her, it was different. They had expected their daughter to charm their friends and be a perfect hostess, following her mother into the upper class social world.

What they had gotten was someone very different. River didn't like dresses or fashion, she liked theoretical physics and foreign languages and logic puzzles. She didn't listen politely, she asked questions. River didn't follow the rules if they got in her way, just ignored them and went ahead with her own adventures. At dinner parties instead of making polite conversation with the guests she would calculate how many people would fit in the room if she removed the furniture and wrote equations with her food to find how many butterflies landed on a leaf in a minute.

All she wanted was freedom to sing, to dance, to write and learn and read to her heart's content. And freedom was the one thing her parents couldn't give her.

They had all been relieved when the letter from the Academy came, but for different reasons. River wanted a place without rules where she could learn; her parents wanted a place to send their troublesome daughter where no one would ask questions.

Simon had been the only family that was ever truly there for her, and he was her mother and father and brother all rolled into one. He read her stories and brushed her hair and held her after a nightmare.

But now, on the little ship they call home, she finds that Simon isn't the only one there for her. He is just her brother now, an older, overprotective brother. She has new parents now, better ones. Ones that actually appreciate her, ones that give her freedom.

Mal is like her father, all roughness and warmth. He doesn't ignore her when she says something, even if it does come out all jumbled up. He takes the time to sort through the words and actually listens to them. He pats her on the back or smiles at her when she does something to help them, like telling him someone is coming or getting a better deal from a client.

He treats her like a person, not a little doll that can't make decisions for herself. When she cries because the words are coming out wrong or memories threaten to overwhelm her he sits next to her and holds her or rubs her back until she calms down again. He makes sure she's safe every time they're out, and if that means breaking a client's nose for looking at her funny or trying to get her to come with him then by god he will do it.

She's his little Albatross, and he takes care of his own. And one time, when she wanders away from the ship and he finds her almost asleep in the forest, all white and scratched, he picks her up and carries her back home. And, when she tells an almost hysterical Simon that she was fine, that daddy came and got her, he feels like he might just burst with pride. And burst into tears. And hug her until she can't breathe. Not necessarily in that order.

She's found a mother too. Inara's always there for her, ready to give her a hug or a shoulder to cry on. She makes them tea and sits on her comfortable bed right next to River holding her hand and listening and smiling as River tells her how she once spent an entire afternoon drawing up an series of formulas that would prove the existence of a new subatomic particle, even though she can't understand a word she's saying.

She takes River planetside and lets her pick out whatever she likes in the stores even if everything clashes and nothing is even remotely resembling the current fashions. Then they go for ice cream and, when River decides to go swimming in the middle of a large duck pond, Inara, instead of scolding her, laughs and wades in after her.

Inara never tried to correct her manners or make excuses for her. She never told her that something was improper, or that she was doing it wrong. She just said it was her way of doing it and as long as she liked it, she could do it.

One time, when River accidentally knocked over a vase of hers and broke it she had laughed and told the sobbing girl that she had never liked it anyway. River had given her a watery smile and watched as she tossed the shards of porcelain into the trash bin without a second glance.

On Mother's Day, when she found a small bouquet of violets and a note saying 'Love, River' on her bed she had walked straight out of her shuttle to give the girl a hug before going back and putting the flowers on prominent display in the center of her shuttle. And, three days later, when a client asked her why she had a bunch of ugly drooping flowers in the middle of her room she had thrown him out without a second thought.


	17. Q is for Queen

**Q is for Queen**

_Queen: (chess) a player that can move in any direction, often regarded as the best offensive or defensive piece. The second most important piece after the king._

Chess is the strategist's game, the game that kings and war lords and tacticians play. River played it too, back on Osiris when she was younger. She loved the black and white tiles, the intricately carved pieces.

The rules back then were simple. Take the other person's king, protect your own at all costs. She had mastered the game when she was six, able to checkmate her brother in under fifteen moves. She had thought it simple then, she thought she understood all the rules and regulations. She was wrong.

Now she knows better. Her life is one giant game of chess, and the rules no longer apply. They stopped applying when she went to that place where they cut open her brain and scrambled and shook things around until she couldn't find them.

Before she didn't play chess, she watched and moved the pieces. Calculated the acceptable amount that she could lose so she could win. But now she's a player, and everything's different.

Every person has a place, a part, a role, in the game. They might not know which part, or why, or even understand the rules that dictate, but they have a part anyways. River is the queen.

She's the queen because she can move anywhere, be anywhere. She can fight anyone, can come at bishops head-on or sideways and take down a rook from the diagonal.

Before she used to be a pawn, always moving forwards, a single goal in sight. But that was before they took her away, pulled her out of her safe little game of chess so that they could tinker and bend and tear. They made her into a queen, their queen, and dropped her back onto a new chess board where she didn't know the players or their pieces or what side she was on.

She thought she knew the rules, but then she realized that the old rules were wrong. The king wasn't the most important piece on the board, it was the queen.

The king moved only one space at a time, open to any attacks, relying on others to protect and die for him. The queen every which way; twisting and spinning and ducking, cutting down the enemy before they got an advantage.

She was their queen, but she didn't want to be. They controlled her every move, pushed her sideways when she wanted to go forward, moved her back when she struggled and dug in her feet.

They control everything, their blue-clad hands pushing pieces around the board so that they would protect the king. They didn't care who they sacrificed as long as they were safe and winning.

That's why they made her after all, so that she could help them win the game. She has only one purpose, one goal.

She explained to Simon, laying out the board all nice and pretty like it was back home. She'd pointed and moved and drawn diagrams. He didn't understand, none of them understood. They're all pawns, she thinks bitterly.

Mal thinks that he's the king, the one that controls the game. Inara is considered to be the queen, the one that arranges deals, honest ones, and keeps them safe from the law.

Zoe and Jayne are castles, battering down anyone who comes at them, and Wash is the knight, hopping around from planet to planet. Kaylee is a knight too, scrambling to keep them together with bits and pieces, and Simon and Book are bishops, always coming at an angle. Everyone thinks she's a broken piece forced to stay out of the game.

But she knows better, knows that they all think they are the masters, the manipulators, when really other people are dictating their lives, moving them around and around.

None of them listen though, not to her or the Operative or the Alliance. They see pieces, Blue Sun and reavers and the Pax, but they can't put it together. They just continue onwards, marching towards a single goal.

She wants to scream sometimes, to take the chessboard and throw it across the room and watch everything break. But whenever she tries they make her move in another direction, slapping away punches and kicks and scratches, muffling shrieked warnings.

Everything's going so perfectly for them, their pieces are all lined up and ready for the kill. The trap is obvious to her and she wants to warn them but she can't, and she watches as the crew steps perfectly into the line of fire.

XXXXXXXXX

She's in her room when the ship pulls up beside them, all silver and steel as it pulls out of the night. Everyone's asleep, like with Early, and she frowns at their negligence and opens the hatch.

They get Kaylee first, then Book and Simon and Inara. All are easily snatched, alone and asleep in their rooms. Wash and Zoe are harder to take, and several soldiers suffer injuries. _Dinosaurs_, they say with shock. _The crazy man threw a dinosaur at me._

Mal, the silly man, actually tries to shoot them. They break his arm and drag him down to where the rest of the crew is assembled.

River comes last, dancing and unbound. The soldiers are afraid of her, not understanding why they young girl with the dark eyes and hair who dances as she walks has such a high priority level.

She smiles, because they fancy themselves castles or bishops or knights. They are simply pawns, to be used and then disposed of.

She skips over to the center of the room and halts in front of Mal, who is staring at her in shock, not even registering the pain in his mangled arm.

_Checkmate_, she tells him, and laughs.


	18. R is for Restless

**R is for Restless**

_Restless: unable to sleep_

River frowned and kicked back the covers on her bed then flipped over, trying to find the perfect position on her bed. Normally the hard mattress didn't bother her, but right now it felt like every spring was poking her in the back.

With a sigh she sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Her hair fell around her face in a tangled curtain and she shoved it back impatiently before getting to her feet and going to the door.

Opening it she glanced around once before she noiselessly slipped out, padding silently down the hallway. The metal was freezing beneath her feet and she briefly considered climbing up a wall and continuing her journey on the ceiling before discarding the notion.

She found herself in the kitchen and, not knowing what else to do, she started to make herself a cup of tea.

When Mal entered the room some minutes later River was curled up on the sofa staring fixedly at the kettle.

She glanced up when he arrived and then looked away again, trying to ignore the memories that rendered him unable to sleep.

"Hey there albatross," he greeted her, trying not to let his surprise show. "What are you doing here so late at night?" River glanced up at him, a smile tugging at her lips.

"I could ask you the same," she teased. He smirked at her and raised his eyebrows. She sighed. "I couldn't sleep," she elaborated reluctantly; she didn't want him to send her back to bed.

Mal nodded, accepting her words, and pulled the kettle off the stove before it whistled and woke the whole crew up. He poured them each a cup and then walked over to her, staring at her until she moved over enough to let him sit, and handed her one cup.

River carefully took a sip, and winced as it burned her mouth. Next to her the captain smiled and mimicked the gesture, including the face she had made and then exaggerating it.

She stuck out her tongue at him as he laughed and took another sip, sighing with appreciation as the tea burned through her and warmed her up.

Noticing this, Mal glanced at her feet and then groaned.

"River, why aren't you wearing shoes?" he asked in annoyance. River shrugged; she didn't care.

"I can feel Serenity dancing like this," she explained, wiggling her white toes. She knew Mal would understand, and he did, even though he was annoyed about it.

"What's the doc gonna say when you catch a cold?" he asked her, reaching for her feet. She shrugged and then sighed; his hand was like a flame.

"Gorramit girl, your feet are bout frozen," he said. "Don't you have anything to wear?"

River shook her head; she tended to 'forget' to remind Simon she needed socks whenever he went shopping for her. Mal sighed and then, one hand still holding onto her feet, reached for his own shoes and quickly pulled them off.

He took off his pair of thick red socks and pulled them onto her feet, muttering all the while about how he thought she was smart. The socks were too big, but they were warm and that was all that mattered.

"Now your feet are cold," River said, pointing to Mal's feet, which he had hastily shoved back into his boots.

"I got others," he said carelessly, trying to act like it was no big deal. "'Sides, I can't have my pilot freezing her feet clean off." River smiled at him and he smiled back despite himself.

"Now, get to bed," he told her. River hopped up and scooped up their mugs, dancing with them to the sink. Then she went back to Mal, who was still sitting on the couch.

Come with me?" she asked, making her eyes as wide as possible. Mal sighed and stared up at her puppy dog eyes. She stared back, trying to make her eyes even bigger.

With another sigh he heaved himself to his feet, frowning as his back twinged. Smiling, River grabbed his hand and danced back to her room, the socks preventing the cold metal from bothering her.

Mal followed her into her room and watched as she scrambled back into her bed, pulling the covers up so far the only thing he could see was a pair of large brown eyes staring back out at him. He couldn't help but smile at that, she looked so much like his younger sister did then.

"Good night," he told her. She blinked at him and he left the room, turning the light off behind him. Outside he paused for a second, briefly considering going back to the kitchen, before heading to his room. He felt like he could sleep peacefully now.

In her room, River smiled before slipping off into a dreamless sleep.


	19. S is for Scars

**S is for Scars**

_Scars: a lasting aftereffect of trouble, especially a lasting psychological injury resulting from suffering or trauma; any blemish remaining as a trace of or resulting from injury or use._

River is covered with scars, both inside and out. She quantifies them, puts them on a scale. Good, bad, worse. If she detaches herself, like Simon when he sees them, it's easier to pretend they don't exist.

Some are easy to see, visible even to the untrained eye. Others are harder to detect, blending seamlessly with her skin so that it takes a bright light to notice the marks. These are the physical ones, the ones she can see and touch and remember.

There are only a few scars from her childhood; she was much too good to be hurt in her adventures.

She has a small scar on her knee where she fell down a hill and landed on a sharp rock; another from when she fell out of a tree when she was younger and broke her leg. There's a small one on her elbow, and another on the bottom of her right foot. Both were acquired when she decided that she wanted to run away from home and got stuck in a sharp thorny patch of the woods from which she emerged hours later, scratched and bleeding.

These scars are good because when Simon sees them he smiles and remembers River-as-she-was, not River-as-she-is. He laughs and tells whoever's listening about how they happened.

She has other scars as well, scars that aren't the mishaps of childhood, and these scars are worse because Simon turns away when he sees them and doesn't smile for hours.

The inside of her arms are covered in tiny knots, remnants from hundreds of needles shoved into her. One wrist has a thick silver line across from when she grabbed a knife and tried to commit suicide. There's another scar on her shoulder from where the knife's edge slammed into her from the fight that followed as they tried to pry the knife away from her.

There are scars on her legs from where knives or swords or shackles that were too tight cut. There's a scar on her stomach from a too fast opponent, and a bullet wound on her shoulder. For some of these she doesn't know who gave them to her, or when it happened.

They don't bother her very much, these scars. They are remnants of battle, like Mal's or Zoe's, and when she sees them she only remembers anger and fear and adrenaline. They hurt her though because they hurt Simon, and she doesn't like it when Simon's in pain.

The worst are the scars on her head and back and feet.

There are eighteen scars on her feet, nine on each foot. Each one is three inches long and half an inch apart, and all are neat and even. She still remembers how she got those, and she knows she won't ever forget.

They had wanted her to fight, she had wanted to dance. That's all she had ever wanted to do, but they restricted the motion, cutting off twirls and pirouettes before they were even half-formed.

_Dance our dance_, they told her, blue gloved hands reaching for her. _Follow our music, our steps._ She had frowned and shaken her head. It was early and she had yet to learn caution. She had glared at them, an animal trapped in a too small cage.

_Make me,_ she told them, and they did. Strapped her to a chair and cut the bottoms of her feet in neat little lines while she struggled wildly. By the time the bandages came off and she could walk again she was more than willing to dance_ anything_, even if was no longer ballet.

The scars on her back were etched forever into her memory as well. Her movement trainers had said she was moving too slowly, and had wondered if perhaps an adjustment in her spine would help the signals in her brain travel down her spinal cord and into her muscles faster.

To make sure they could test the finished product they had made sure she was awake as they cut open her back and adjusted her spine. She had lain awake for days after that, unable to put her back against anything.

One day she fell asleep and rolled over onto her back, hitting every single nerve on her back. In retaliation she cut her mattress into pieces using her fingers and a coat hanger. After that she was made to sleep on a cot.

She never told Simon about the scars on her back, even though he had asked in his best doctor voice what had happened. She didn't want to tell him because he would probably have broken down and released all the emotion he was trying so hard to keep control of. He wanted to be strong in front of little sister, doesn't realize she knows and doesn't care.

She didn't tell him about the scars on her head, but he figured those out by himself.

There are many scars on her head, small and large and all those in between. Some were used only once; others were opened and re-opened so many times that if she was anyone but herself she would have lost count. But she didn't, and so she lied to Simon when he asked her, afraid of what the truth would do to him.

She was glad that they left her hair when they played with her brain, because the hair hid the cuts and scars and she could pretend that they didn't exist, even when she saw things that weren't there of forgot her own name.

There are mental scars as well, memories of blood and secrets and people who vanished into the night. There were men and women and children screaming as they were beaten for information they didn't have, or lying on the operating table as scientists used them for experiments.

There was layer after layer, scar on scar on open wound. She knew that if she could ever run her hands over her mental brain there wouldn't be a smooth patch left.

She's covered in scars and she hides them behind dresses and long sleeves and smiles. She covers them up and buries them away and pretends they don't exist.

And maybe one day, if she wishes hard enough, pretends long enough, they won't.


	20. T is for Temperature

**T is for Temperature**

_Temperature: the heat of an object; an excess amount in human beings is called a fever and can be a precursor to a sickness._

River's head hurts. It's pounding and throbbing and aching and it _hurts._ Her heartbeat fills her ears, and her head pulses along with it. Hurtshurtshurts.

She's burning up too, but she can't seem to move her arms without feeling dizzy and sick. She tries to move her legs to kick off the blankets but her entire body is leaden.

Everything's fuzzy and blurry, like she's staring through a fog. She's not sure if the fog is real, she just knows that it's there. In her life, the two are mutually exclusive.

Something pounds, and she briefly wonders if there's a crazy axe man banging around the ship before deciding not to worry about it. Mostly because it hurts too much, but also because a crazy axe man would solve all of her problems.

Then something scrapes and squeals and she realizes it's just Simon walking down the hall and opening her door.

"River?" Even the sound makes her want to scream. She groans unintelligibly and prays to every single deity that she knows that he will go away and leave her alone in her misery. He doesn't and she curses Book and his trust in his symbol for letting her down.

Something touches her head and she jerks away automatically. Her head reels and she jerks her hands upwards, trying to catch herself from falling when she's flat on her back. Her mind retaliates by redoubling the headache and she groans again.

Simon touches her forehead again and then withdraws it, looking upset.

"Wait here," he tells her, and then runs away, slamming the screen behind him. The echoes of the door and his footsteps make her feel even more sick and she wants to kill him for telling her an obvious instruction like that, but she can't because that would require moving and she doesn't think that that would be the best course of action right now.

He comes back, more quietly this time, and puts something down next to her. The bed rustles and she weakly stretches out a hand to push him away, wanting to be alone in the silence of her pounding head.

Simon pushes her hand away easily and she curses him out in forty different languages in her head.

"Don't," he tells her. At least, she thinks that's what he says. Everything else is muted and dulled, getting lost in the fog that fills her brain. "You have a fever."

That part gets through and she revises her plan to murder him, adding in more variables and details. Why why _why_ can't he go away? She just wants to burn in peace, is that really so much to ask?

Something cold touches her head and she relaxes slightly, trying to imagine the ice dripping through the icepack and her skull to touch the fire that was steadily worsening. It seemed to dim slightly and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her.

Then Simon drops another blanket on her and she squirms, trying to dislodge the heat without making her headache any worse.

"River," Simon warns her, using his best doctor voice. She hates that voice, because that means she has to listen even if she doesn't want to.

Simon used that voice on her when she was five and had pneumonia and wanted to run around outside in the snow. He was only eleven then, but he still had it down hot already. Or does she mean down cold? She's not sure, everything's all jumbled up in her head.

The bag zips again and Simon takes something else out. There's a click and then a small pop that she knows so well she could identify it even in her sleep.

It's the sound of the top of a needle being taken off. She flies up out of the bed, dislodging the icepack and the extra blanket and Simon's bag.

The room is spinning around her and her head feels like someone's driving a needle through her skull (a feeling she knows well). She feels her back hit something solid and she wonders if it's the floor or the wall.

"River!" Panicked shouting that makes her head throb and her eyes tear.

"No needles," she tries to tell him; but her tongue's thick and fuzzy and the words come out all lopsided.

Simon reaches towards her and she stumbles away, swaying. The floor (or does she mean the wall?) rushes up towards her face and then Simon grabs her and drops her on the bed.

"No needles," he tells her desperately; she doesn't care, her head feels like someone set off fireworks in it. She mutters something into her pillow that he must take for another complaint because he zips up his doctor case and shoves it outside the room.

He needn't have bothered, she didn't care about needles anymore. She had told him that she was going to kill him. Just as soon as she could stand up by herself.

Simon carefully flipped her over and pulled the blankets up to her chin, smothering her. What she had originally taken to be an icepack was really a damp cloth, something she realized when he put it back on her head.

He sat beside her and held her hand and murmured soothing words to her. She edited and revised her plan to kill him, creating back-up plans for back-up plans and accounting for situations from Inara walking in on the murder to having thirty space monkeys loose on the ship.

Slowly her headache abated and she managed to slip into a light doze punctuated with abrupt awakenings that left her dizzy and disoriented.

After one such awakening Simon asked her if she wanted a smoother, retracting the question when she attempted to exit the bed by rolling over until she fell on the floor.

When she awoke again it was darker in her room and Simon was asleep next to her, his head resting uncomfortably on his fist. He murmured a little in his sleep when she opened her eyes and then went back to his statue-like position.

Cautiously River sat up, trying not to restart her headache. She was still a little dizzy, but the pain was gone and she was relatively clear-headed.

As quietly as she could she pushed her blankets back and swung her legs over the side of her bed. With a creak that made her cringe she stood up. There was a head rush that left her slightly unsteady, but she was relatively balanced.

She took a few practice steps before she regained her normal sense of equilibrium and then turned around.

Simon was just waking up, his eyes blinking blearily.

"River?" The question was slightly slurred and she suppressed a giggle. He blinked, his mind clearing. "What are you doing up?" he asked her. He moved to stand up and she frowned at him.

"An apple a day keeps the doctor away," she told him. "Didn't have my apple today, but I'm going to eat one now." He smiled at her, still worried.

"River, you were really sick. It might not be a good idea to-" she cut him off by covering his mouth with her hand.

"Shh," she told him. "All better now. Apple time." He relaxed and she removed her hand.

"Was that what you were thinking about?" he asked her playfully. River smiled at him.

"No," she said cheerfully. "I was planning your murder. I have two hundred fifty-seven plans, all with three back-ups in case of emergencies and unexpected occurrences. One hundred and ninety-seven of these original plans can be plausibly carried out in this reality. Thirty-four of the others involve space monkeys. Another fifteen involve reavers, fairies, or talking rabbits. My last one involves a talking green giant."

She gave him a bright smile, ignoring the look of horror on his face. "I have but one thing to tell you: Be afraid. Be very afraid."

And with that she skipped out of the room, looking for all the world like a deranged drunk as she zig-zagged haphazardly down the corridor.

Back in her room Simon put his hand on his head, frowned, and then took it away. He had a headache. And a temperature.


	21. U is for Unsuspecting

**A/N: Another fic dictated by my sister. *****Sigh*****. The things we do for family. **

**U is for Unsuspecting**

_Unsuspecting: Not aware of the presence of danger; not suspicious._

Mal climbed down into his bunk, privately relieved to be able to sit down and relax for two minutes without something going wrong and blowing up. Landing on the floor he turned around, already shrugging off his coat, and then froze.

His room was pink. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, even the frame for his bed was painted a brilliant bubblegum pink. Staring in disbelief, he poked the wall with one finger. It was dry.

Who in the hell would - River. She was the only explanation. She was the only one on the ship with the time to do this, and the guts to carry it out.

He narrowed his eyes. She was going to die. He whirled and clambered out of his bunk, stomping down the hall to the mess, where he knew the rest of the crew was gathered.

"River!" he yelled, bursting into the room. The crew froze, their chatter stopping instantly. They were all gathered around the table, about to eat dinner.

River glanced up from her seat next to Simon, her eyes wide and innocent.

"Mal!" yelled Inara, staring at him incredulously. The rest of the crew followed her example and stared at him, wide-eyed. He ignored them.

"You are going to die," he threatened her, giving her his best captain glare. She stared at him, all wide-eyed and confused.

"Now captain, let's all calm down," said Book soothingly. Inara was glaring daggers at him and Simon was trying to position himself between Mal and River. The rest of the crew looked confused. Really, _really_, confused.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" snapped Mal, attempting to duck around the doc to get to River. River let out a shriek that sounded suspiciously like she was laughing and dove across the table, cowering behind Inara.

"Mal!" yelled Inara, Simon, and Book. Wash was hovering nervously, Kaylee was protecting River, and Zoe was giving him a look that questioned his sanity. Jayne was eating the food off of Simon's plate, having already finished his own.

"What has gotten into you?" demanded Inara. Simon snorted and mumbled something that sounded highly uncomplimentary.

"That little evil genius that you're all protecting painted my bunk pink," snapped Mal, his voice all sorts of injured-pride. Heads turned to scrutinize River, who was still hiding behind Inara.

She giggled and gave them all a brilliant smile.

"Ha!" yelled Jayne, starting to laugh. "She got you good!" He continued laughing, and the rest of the crew joined in one-by-one. Even Zoe was laughing, and he gave her his best disappointed look.

"It's not that bad Mal," Simon wheezed. "You can always repaint." Mal stared at him in horror.

"It's pink!" he said, staring around the room for support. He got none. "I mean, she couldn't have picked a manly color like brown or green? I could have handled that, but pink?" He stared at the hysterical crew. "You are all heartless," he said sniffily. He looked at River, who was giving him an evil smile. "Especially you," he told her.

Gathering up all of his remaining dignity he left the room with a flourish, heading towards the storage bay to see if he could rustle up some paint.

The rest of the crew sobered slightly and regarded River. She stared back, smiling maniacally.

"Nice job," said Jayne finally, his tone slightly respectful. River beamed at him.

"Wasn't just Mal," she told him sweetly. Jayne frowned and the rest of the crew started smiling again.

"What do ya mean not just Mal?" Jayne asked suspiciously. River continued smiling creepily at him.

"Jayne's a girl's name," she said, tilting her head. "It wouldn't make sense to paint captain-daddy's and not yours. Besides, there was a lot of paint left over." Jayne made a choked sound and ran from the room, heading to his bunk, trying to ignore the laughter that echoed up the corridor behind him.

"River," asked Wash worriedly, "What about my room? 'Cause Zoe's a girl, so I don't really need our room that color." River shook her head and Wash gave a sigh of relief.

"And mine?" asked Book, already halfway out of his seat. When River responded in the negative he sat back down, muttering a prayer of thanks.

All eyes turned to Simon, who was still chuckling and looking extremely unconcerned. Noticing this he smiled.

"Oh, River wouldn't do that to me," he said cheerfully, turning to her for confirmation.

She stared back, her face expressionless.

"River?" asked Simon, looking worried. "You didn't, right? River?" When no answer was forthcoming from her he bolted out of his chair, heading for his room as fast as he could go.

River smiled and took a bite of her herb-flavored protein. They didn't suspect a thing.


	22. V is for Vigilante

**V is for Vigilante**

_Vigilante: Any person who takes the law into his or her own hands, as by avenging a crime._

They had been on a border world, just minding their own business as they waited for the rest of the crew to get back from the job. They'd been planning Kaylee's birthday party, deciding on the cake and the presents and the decorations. Talking and laughing and enjoying the sun on their skin and the wind in their hair.

XXXXXXXX

He was young, too young. He had a mother and a father and two little sisters who he loved more than anything in the world. He was Alliance-friendly and proud of it; he had just come from the local bar where he had been hanging around and listening to stories about the war.

XXXXXXXX

They were dancing, spinning around and around and around until they were too dizzy to stand up straight. They had been lying in the shade, trying to catch their breath, playing a game of chess in their heads.

XXXXXXXXXX

He was walking along, reading over the cortex warrant and imagining he was there, taking down all the big bad scary guys that never came here and likely never would. It pure luck that he had seen that particular warrant, a one in a million chance. And a one in a billion chance that he had seen it while passing the ship.

XXXXXXXXXX

They had moved on to reading an old book they had found in a junk shop on Persephone. They were sitting close together, heads bent over the pages, enjoying their time together. They'd looked up when they heard shouts and had seen only a small scrawny boy waving a cortex around. One of them stood. The other one sat.

XXXXXXXXXXX

He had a gun, a gift from his father for his last birthday. It was tucked into his waistband like he'd seen the local cops doing it. He pulled it out, waved it around. They weren't listening, one of them was still sitting. This was his chance, his moment. One of them reached for their belt. He thought they had a gun.

XXXXXXXXXX

They hadn't seen it coming. _She_ hadn't seen it coming. Too slow, tired and weak and dizzy from the dancing and the drugs and the fact that she hadn't slept in over forty hours because she couldn't fall asleep. There was a movement and a shout and a bang.

XXXXXXXXX

He had been young, too young. He had a mother and a father and two little sisters he loved more than anything. And as he lay there, wanna-be bounty hunter turned vigilante, body carved up by a knife with his neck broken, River wanted nothing more than to bring him back so she could kill him again. Preferably with acid. Or a gun. She wasn't picky.

And next to her, with his hand still reaching into his pockets for the paper showing they were allowed to park there, Simon lay flat on his back, bleeding out all over the sunbaked earth.


	23. W is for Weapon

**W is for Weapon**

_Weapon: any instrument or device for use in attack or defense in combat, fighting, or war._

She's a weapon. Once she was a girl, and sometimes she is a girl again, but mostly she is a weapon.

Simon wants her to be a girl all the time, to have her run and play with Kaylee, to correct Book's bible and play with Wash's dinosaurs. He wants her to hold debates with him like she did when she was younger, arguing about everything from politics to chess to advanced theoretical physics.

But she knows she's not a girl, and that she'll never be a girl again.

They changed her, took pieces out and switched pieces around. They added pieces, shoving and pushing and twisting so that they would slide, straining and pushing and too tight, into her brain.

Now she's a weapon, calculating and cold and deadly. She is a broken weapon, one who screams and cries and fights with every ounce of her being against what she has become, but she is a weapon all the same.

Every movement by every crew member is tracked, the information stored and catalogued and cross-referenced so that she knows what they will do in any given situation. She counts the entrances and the exits, memorizes the position of each weapon and possible weapon in every room.

Simon doesn't know that there are forty different ways to kill someone with a fork, but she does. She knows everything. The pressure required to break someone's wrist, the angle at which she should hold a person's arm for the maximum amount of pain without breaking it.

They all see her as a broken girl, ignore her mutterings and wanderings and staring eyes. They never see the danger, the part of her that is a weapon. Jayne does, and so do Mal and Simon and Zoe, but they pretend they don't. They think that if they just ignore it it will go away.

It won't. It's part of her now and she can't cut it out. None of them can, not Simon with his drugs or Mal with his gun or Jayne with his knife. It's woven into her very being, the damage goes deeper than they could ever imagine.

The men on their jobs see her as a fighter or a little girl or a business woman, however she feels like portraying herself. (She is a master of disguise, it's a good quality in a weapon) They never see her as a weapon until she's killed them all, and even then they don't understand or comprehend.

The men who did this to her, they are the only ones who know her for who she truly is. They are the ones who made her, after all. They alone know how dangerous and unstable she is.

She is a weapon and she knows it, knows it like she knows the shape of Simon's face or the first six hundred digits of pi or how to dance the part of Odette in Swan Lake so that everyone who watches her cries.

But she will protect her crew, because that is what weapons are for. They protect their owners, because they cannot protect themselves. She will protect them for as long as she can, shielding them from harm.

But, eventually, she will fail. Because no weapon, however well it is made, will last forever.


	24. X is for X-ray

**X is for X-ray**

_X-ray: a form of electromagnetic radiation capable of penetrating solids._

She can see right through them. Through their lies and half-truths, the words they use to spin a barrier between themselves and everyone around them.

She can see their hopes and dreams, their wishes and desires. She sees the truths that lurk in the shadows behind the false words they speak, sees the real person behind the front they put up.

They lie to themselves and each other and the world, but they don't lie can't lie to her. She sees the double meanings, words hidden behind words in a game of hide-and-seek, wanting to be heard but afraid to be said.

Mal says he has a plan, that he will be fine and survive and live to fight another day. Inside he is praying to a god he doesn't think he believes in anymore to keep them all safe for another day (just one more).

He says _go_ and _leave me alone _and _I hate you_. Words shift and untangle and she hears _stay _and _please _and _I love you._

Inara hides behind her walls, pretending the growing unease she feels with her job is nothing, only fatigue or depression or restlessness. She lies and pretends and smoothes her expression, painted face never slipping even when no one is watching.

She says _job_ and _don't follow_ and _I'm leaving_. Words slip past silent lips and there is only _shackles_ and _come after me_ and _please don't let me go_.

Simon and Kaylee dance, awkward and stilted and tripping over the thread that tangles around their feet with every word.

Simon hides behind etiquette and protocols and politeness, throwing out the words _sister _and _broken_ and _have to take care of her_ as weapons, designed to push everyone back because he's afraid of getting too close.

Kaylee says _I'm fine _and _it's good _and _weren't nothing but a scratch._ Niska and Early scared her more than she'll ever admit to anyone, even to herself. She sees River and remembers the gun, sees the engine room and remembers the intruder. There is no more innocent rambling around the engine room at night anymore, but she pretends that she is simply too tired.

They dance and they trip and they fall, and all around them the thread whispers _love _and _hold me_ and _together we are safe._

Jayne pretends he doesn't care about the crew, about what they think of him. He acts like he doesn't need their liking, that he has a heart of stone.

But the stone cracks and breaks off in pieces, the wind whistling _don't tell them what I did _as it plummets down down down.

Zoe and Wash twist and tangle, always one but sometimes fracturing off into segments, their thoughts and actions and words refusing to line up so that the echoes give her a headache.

Wash sees Zoe and Mal and says _she's my wife_, but all he can think is _don't take her away._ He tells her that _this marriage has too many husbands_, but he wonders and hopes _don't choose him over me._

Zoe says _he's the captain_ and _I married you_. Words belie thoughts and on the inside she thinks _he won't let us down _and _I chose you._

The dinosaurs stare on and add in, plastic jaws unhinging to say _I love you more_, _I would choose you any day._

Book reads and prays and tries to forget, growing the hair out to cover the bad deeds and his past. He can run, and he thinks he can hide. _Faith fixes you, _he tells her. _Please fix me_, he prays, eyes closed head bowed.

She can see through all of them, see through their lies and half-truths to the hopes and dreams and thoughts that lie below. They can lie to each other and the world and themselves, but they can't lie to her.

She sees right through them every time.


	25. Y is for Yarn

**Y is for Yarn**

_Yarn: thread made of natural or synthetic fibers and used for knitting and weaving._

It fills the room, so many colors crammed into one space, a display of fireworks all going off at once.

There's so much, too much. It twists and turns and there's no end and no beginning, nothing but snakes that writhe on the ground and spit a rainbow of poison.

Rainbow poison, rainbow snakes.

It's _everywhere_, covering the floor, draping over her bed. Piles shoved into corners and under her bunk, swallowing her clothes and pencils and papers.

It's out of control and she can't contain it. She thought she could, but she can't. It rolled away from her, unraveling to become thousands of loops and curls and spirals.

It surrounds her, leaving her stranded, crouched in the middle of her bed. If she tries to get up it will grab her and pull her down. It's carnivorous, and she should never have trusted it.

She can't escape, and she can't wait for it to coil itself back up, snakes retreating to find better prey than the little mouse with big eyes. It will always be there, watching her. Waiting. Like the hair, but not like the hair. The hair can be contained. The snakes cannot.

She does the only thing she can think of. She screams for Simon.

He comes running, all loud footsteps and shouting mind. Opens the door and trips and falls headlong into the snake pit.

They cover him, filling his mouth and crawling over his face. He sputters and sits up, dislodging multi-colored snakes. They don't bite him, of course they don't. Traitors.

"River?" he asks, bewildered. He doesn't understand how the snakes crawled onboard, how they survived the coldness of space.

He comes to her and sits next to her, shoving away the snakes. Puts his arm around her and lets her bury her face in his neck.

"Simon, there's _so. Much. Yarn."_


	26. Z is for Zenith

**Z is for Zenith**

_Zenith: a highest point or state; culmination. _

River knows how it all ends.

Images squeeze through closed lids and dance on a backdrop of black shot with red. (Close your eyes and press your hands against your ears, but still they get in).

Whisper whisper whisper. They talk to her, at her. Hands grasping and pulling, fingers tugging at clothes and hair, scratching skin till she bleeds.

XXXXXXXXX

The Fate's loom spins, crimson and gold and indigo twining together until she can't tell where one color begins and another ends. She watches, blood dripping down her wrist to splatter the cloth, and the world burns below her.

The fire reaches higher and higher, fingers of flame licking the sky until it crumbles to ash and tumbles down down down, scorching earth and burning grass.

XXXXXXXXX

She spins her way through a city, the buildings disintergrating as she dances until they wash away with the tide. She bends, fingers digging into soil. Opens her hands and ash tumbles away, spiraling through the breeze.

Once, this was a garden. Now the roses drip crimson blood and the weeds have sprouted thorns. Dancing, always dancing; they tangle around her feet and trip her, biting and scratching and _hurting_.

XXXXXXXXX

Bleached bones and harsh winds that carry the smell of smoke wherever she goes. She can run, so run she will. Her feet grow wings, but they will not carry her away.

She will not escape, bars grow out of stone arches and lock her in, stuck with the wind and the ash and the promise of rain that never comes.

XXXXXXXXX

The swing burns before her, ropes snapping and unweaving. Once, a child played here. Now he is gone, white on white on black. No one will play here again, swinging to try and touch the sky.

She touched the sky once, but a star burned her and she fell back into this place of brimstone and smoke.

XXXXXXXXX

She wonders if this is hell. It's not. At least in hell there would be someone else to wander this desert with.

XXXXXXX

"River, what are you doing?"

"Listening to the screaming."

"There's no screaming River."

….

"There will be."


End file.
